


Bubbles

by StudGenius



Series: Nova and Chantal: Reconciliation [1]
Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8751817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudGenius/pseuds/StudGenius
Summary: Nova's resolve is broken, and Chantal's ear is open.





	

Nova's called twice already.

And it isn't that Chantal doesn't want to talk to her. lt's that she so very badly does that had stopped her from picking up earlier in the evening. That, and uncertainty that she can fight the urge to blurt out "What? Officer Macklemore ain't hittin' it right?" when she picks up.

That would just be petty. And unnecessary. Chantal knows enough to recognize the look of a woman who'd made sounds she'd never heard herself make before during a moment of passion. But she doesn't know how to compete with whatever the years of on-and-off... involvement have built between her ex and Calvin, and she doesn't know if she has it in her to try. If her efforts will amount to anything more than more hurt pride. If she can truly get over how much Nova's active attraction to somebody who works in service of the enemy turns her off every time she thinks about it. About _them_. If she even really has a chance or had ever had one in the first place.

Her mouth quirks into a pained little grimace remembering when Nova had asked her whether the rejection of her talking points was really the issue. Had it ever even crossed her mind that letting Chantal retrieve the coconut oil, Wet, and condoms from the same nightstand she'd stashed her ex's framed pictures in might not be the best idea?

Chantal isn't going to lie. Her feelings are still tender. That she's lost out to a white cop of all people just adds insult to injury.

She knows it's true because Mr. Ninth Ward News himself, Rid, had confirmed it when he'd brought Too Sweet by, and, since then, she's spent more time than she'd like to admit wondering what Nova ever wanted from her in the first place besides "company." But she knows Nova - willfull, prideful, stubborn, sexy Nova - isn't calling her for no reason. Especially not at one in the morning. So, finally, she answers.

For a few moments too long, no one speaks. The "hello" on Chantal's lip dies at the sound of Nova sighing on the other end. So she sits there, phone to ear, listening to Nova breathe, and trying to keep her own breaths deep and even because something tells her it's what Nova needs, when she hears a sniffle.

"Nova."

An audible, shaky deep breath is the response.

" _Nova_."

The hard gulp of Nova swallowing a sob is followed by a rush of air through pursed lips.

 _Fuck it._ "I'm coming over."

Nova speaks then, voice quiet and raw. "Okay."

Chantal doesn't know exactly what reaction she was expecting, but the quick acquiescence worries her even more than the crying. Nova and asking for help have never been friends. "A'ight."

30 minutes later, she pulls up to 4817 River Way, go bag in the passenger seat, checks her reflection in the rearview mirror, and makes her way up the walkway and onto the porch. Her fist is in mid-air, poised to knock, when Nova opens the door.

"Hey," is all Nova says, eyes appraising Chantal with a look she can't quite interpret, but she doesn't look unhappy to see her, so Chantal follows her into the warmth of her living room when she turns to re-take her seat on the couch, leaving Chantal to close the door behind her before she takes her own seat on the short end, leaving a cushion open between them.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Lie again."

"Whatchu mean?" Nova meets Chantal's stern gaze, then rolls her eyes at being called out so early into their conversation, settling back into the couch and throwing her arm over the back in a way that would look open and inviting on anyone else.

Chantal adjusts her open military shirt over her chest before she folds her arms across it. "Nova, you were crying. _You_ were crying. And letting someone else hear you do it." Chantal's eyes soften. "What's wrong?"

Nova just shakes her head and averts her eyes.

"Where's ol' boy?"

"Not here."

Chantal lets out a frustrated sigh.

"We- I needed some time. And space."

"So you called me?"

"Felt like the right thing to do."

Chantal is not going there with Nova. Not now.

"......Did he hit you?"

"No."

"Cheat on you?"

"No."

"Eat the last beignet?" A grievous offense in the Nova Bordelon household, Chantal had learned the hard way.

_"No."_

"Did _you_ hit _him_?"

"No!" Nova stretches out to smack Chantal on the arm when she sees that she's laughing.

"Shit! Are you sure?"

Nova sucks her teeth, but she's smiling, which is more than she'd hoped for - and exactly what she'd hoped for - when she'd tapped Chantal's name in her call log earlier in the night. The contact picture that'd popped up had given her her first smile since _it_ had happened - Chantal puckering up with a sunfish she'd caught on their first and only fishing trip. They'd brought Micah along, and the day still ranked among Nova's favorites. It'd felt good to think about something else without trying, and, honestly, it had felt good to think about Chantal. But now that she has her here, on her couch and close enough to touch, Nova's not sure what form of comfort she'd been seeking when she'd called, either, and, more honestly, she's not interested in unpacking the thoughts that play at the edge of her mind when she thinks of her and Chantal together. Not now. There's way too much going on, and she's waited way too long to live a real life with Calvin to mess it up. But she seems to have a talent for messing things up these days, and the temptation is very, very real. She also wonders why being in Chantal's presence feel more like coming home than running away.

At the very least, she owes Chantal the truth. They've always had that going for them, for better or worse. "There was an...altercation. Last night. Me and Calvin went out, ran into one of his fellow officers, who was clearly a big fan of my work, and..." Nova moistens her lips, "it ended with said fellow officer spitting in my face."

Nova can feel the tears welling up in her eyes again, so she leaves it there. Honesty is one thing. Breaking down in front of someone else, especially Chantal, is another, entirely.

Chantal doesn't say anything in response for a while. Nothing seems adequate. So she does the only thing she knows to do in a situation like this and slides over, closing the gap between her and Nova and wrapping her arms around her, letting Nova's head come to rest on her chest and whispering an "I'm sorry." Nova doesn't make a sound, but Chantal can feel the tears dampening her thin tank top and Nova's body straining to hold everything together. They sit that way for a few minutes before Nova's reluctantly pulling herself out of Chantal's embrace to wipe her eyes and compose herself.

"You smell good." She always did.

"Thank you."

"And you look good."

Nova's eyebrows wiggle a little on the delivery, and Chantal rolls her eyes at her and herself, mainly because she's blushing and biting down on the corner of her lips in a failed attempted to keep a pleased dimple from popping. "You're deflecting."

Nova smiles, but sits up straight and sets her gaze on Chantal without the previous glint of mischief. She throws her hands up and lets them slap down on her thighs. "No 'I told you so?'"

"Nova, no." Chantal's frown wrinkles her brow and her nose. "I'm not gonna front like I wished you two well, but I would never wish you ill will. Especially not some mess like that! You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"I didn't start caring about you just because I was with you. I didn't stop caring about you just because we broke up."

"Because _you_ broke up with _me_. I didn't want that."

"You didn't want me!"

"I still want you!"

"For what? You were never over Calvin, and now you have him. What do you want from me? Why did you call me, Nova?"

"Why did you come?"

"Because you needed me. Don't make it more than what it is."

"You really gonna tell me you don't feel something?"

Chantal looks Nova right in the eyes, then, and Nova, who prides herself on not being afraid of anybody, shrinks back ever so slightly. "What difference does it make?"

"A lot. I still care about you, too."

"Unh uh. You're not going to do that."

"Do what??"

"Set this up so you can go back and forth between me and Calvin. Use me as a distraction until you figure out what to do with him. I'm not playing that shit, Nova."

"I'm not, either, Chantal! I'm just tryna figure some things out. I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Again."

"What?"

"'You're not trying to hurt me,' again." Chantal's still looking into her eyes, and Nova can see the pain brewing up fresh as she picks her next words. "How do you think I felt when, not even a minute after making you come - _while on a mission to make you come again_ , I looked in your drawer and saw his face?"

"It was a mistake!"

"Was it? Because you stayed pulling me in and pushing me away when it was convenient for you. And we could've kept it casual! I tried to leave! Remember? I was cool with taking it slow or just taking you down, whatever you wanted. _You_ were the one who wanted to kick it in Bywater and then had me meeting your nephew on the first day, with your 'I don't u-haul' bullshit."

Nova's jaw tightens as she works her rebuttal around in her mouth. She's never been able to resist an opportunity to be defensive, especially when she knows she's in the wrong. "And I recall you being very enthusiastic about us kicking it. So don't act like I was taking it somewhere you didn't want it to go."

"You're absolutely right. I wanted more. And you're the one who made me think I had it. But all that time, I was just a place-holder for some damn cop."

Nova throws up a hand and waves Chantal off. Dismisses her. "Nah. We're not doing that again. I like who I like, and I don't have to justify it to you."

"You right, you don't. I don't like it. And I won't understand it. But was it the black activist or another white cop who tried to stop y'all from being together?"

"Chan-"

"And while we're at it, stop acting like I'm just being prejudiced and irrational ' cause I ain't fuckin' with it. I don't care that you like white boys. But "white man" and "white cop" are two different things. If you say he's not personally racist, I believe you, I guess, but let's not act like he hasn't spent his whole career in the service of upholding racist systems of oppression. That existence is political, whether you know it or want it to be or not! And he ain't woke! Just another complacent-ass cop not doing anything to stop the so-called bad apples, then wondering why black people's distrust of police extends to him. Where was this favor of his when Too Sweet was getting his ass kicked and you and I were busting our asses trying to get him a lawyer, marching in these streets, praying that he survived every night? Where was he when you and I were in the Quarter half the night looking for him? If he hadn't seen an opportunity to get back with you, I guess it just would've been to hell with 'Vonte, then, huh? That doesn't bother you?"

Nova just stares for a long time before she says "Yes." Her jaw is so tight that Chantal just knows she's going to crack a tooth any second now. "It bothers me. Didn't. At first. I was too relieved to question it. And I love him. I trust him. _Trusted_ him." Nova puts her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, "I don't know. But after all... _this_ , I started thinking about everything. Everything. And now I don't know what to think. Hence the time and the space. And me calling you. You're nothing if not decisive and deliberate."

"'Deliberate and afraid of nothing.'" She already knows the way to Nova's heart is bountiful orgasms, an appreciation for breakfast foods, and Audre Lorde quotes. It doesn't go unnoticed.

"And smart."

"And fine."

"Amen." Nova mock- swoons, fluttering her long eyelashes.

Chantal laughs and shoves Nova's shoulder, and when Nova flops over onto her back dramatically, laughing with her and looking up at her with that soft affection she always had when they were together, she follows her heart and winds up straddling her. She rests her weight on her hands and knees instead of on Nova, but she's on top of her, all the same, one leg in between Nova's and the other between her left thigh and the couch. If she flattens out just a little bit, brings her hips just a little bit closer, she's knows exactly where it's going to lead, and, perhaps, this isn't the best idea she's had. The wave of desire that rolls from the pit of her stomach to her clit is dangerous. "I didn't come here to fight with you."

Nova's hands find their way underneath both of her shirts and onto her waist. "I don't want to fight."

"And I didn't come here to have sex with you, either." 

Nova looks incredulous, but, to her credit, she keeps her mouth shut.

"Didn't say I don't want to. But you want me to help you, right? And, as your counselor, I don't think that would be very helpful, Ms. Bordelon."

"We could try it out and see."

"Stop that."

Nova smiles, charming as ever, and Chantal's blushing again. "Would probably be easier to stop if you weren't on top of me." But when Chantal shifts to move off of her, she tightens her grip, tugging her hips the rest of the way down to meet her own. Chantal's forearms are the only things keeping her from being flush against Nova, and, at this point, they are both aware of how hard Nova's nipples are. Their noses would touch if she would relax her neck long enough to let them.

 _Shit._ "Nova." It's a warning.

"Chantal." An invitation.

"Calvin." Chantal can't believe she's even bringing him up at a time like this, when few things would bring her more joy than seeking relief in the friction of her jeans against the raw silk of Nova's skirt, but she's trying to salvage this conversation before Nova gets a chance to bury her pain again. It's an admittedly hard task that's getting even harder with the persisting thought in her head being of burying herself between Nova's legs.

"If I'm not worried about him right now, why are you?"

"Because you gon' be worried about him later."

"So let later be later." Nova brings a hand up to cup the back of Chantal's head, pulling her in until she's so close that their lips brush. "And let now be now."

Chantal is the one who turns the brushing into kissing. Because _fuck it_. She's always been certain about the things (and people) she wants and clear about her intent to have them, and Chantal intends to have Nova. Trying to steal a girl from a cop is far from the smartest thing someone on an FBI watch list has ever done, but, as with all things in her life, there's no reward without risk. She's in love. She'll never say it as long as Calvin's still in the picture. May not say it even after that. But Nova doesn't miss much, and Chantal doesn't hide much.

When their lips meet, Nova makes a little noise of satisfaction that's half sigh and half moan, and Chantal presses down into her, hips angling to rock against Nova's with a slow, patient roll of her hips. She could speed things up like her body is begging her to, slip a hand between them and under Nova's skirt and have her crying out in no time, but she wants to be sure that Nova is all in every step of the way.

"Tell me what you want."

Nova shows her instead, tugging Chantal's overshirt down her shoulders until she takes the hint and lifts up just enough for Nova to push it completely off. She wraps her free leg around Chantal's hips and grabs two handfuls of her ass to pull her back down, pulling her in even closer than she was before, long nails lightly scratching in a way that makes Chantal's whole body tense up. She braces herself against a couch cushion for leverage when Nova begins to meet her thrusts.

There are easier, more certain ways to get off, surely, than dry humping like two teenagers on a study break, but something about it feels appropriate, considering Nova's not exactly free to do this with her, and they could be caught at any moment, now that Calvin has his key back. And, physically, everything about it feels good. Chantal's usually the one with the wandering hands, but Nova can't think straight long enough to figure out where she wants hers to be. Chantal deepens their kiss and speeds up their pace as the pressure builds in her core and behind her eyes, and Nova's nails traveling under her tank top, up and down her back, into her hair, down her jaw line, and across her shoulder blades, where she decides to hold on, just spur her on.

Her thigh strokes against Nova's center just right, and Nova gasps. The spreading tingle and the tightening muscles in her stomach warn of a climax that's approaching much too soon for her liking. It's a haze of soft, bronze skin, toned body, coconut oil, and the fragrance of warm spices and fresh fruit. She can't see Chantal's face from where her head is now resting on her shoulder, lips grazing Nova's collarbone with each pant and moan, but she knows that, between dilated pupils and excitement, Chantal's eyes are pitch black, shining with lust.

"Look at me."

Chantal smiles when she does, and Nova swoons a little for real, her impending orgasm and her realization that she wouldn't mind seeing that smile every day setting her heart to thumping.

When their lips meet again, gentle and unhurried like they have all the time in the world and there's no one else that matters, Nova lets go, muffled moans and hard shudders making Chantal come undone soon after.

She rests her forehead against Nova's, kisses her nose, and smiles wider at the chuckle it elicits. It's on the tip of her tongue, the 'I love you,' but she swallows it down before the fog of afterglow has her saying something she'll surely regret. Nova's starting to nod off, as it is, like she always does after sex, and Chantal sighs. Conversation successfully deflected, yet again.

"Don't think you've escaped. We're going to talk in the morning." Nova's still got her arms wrapped around her, and she takes it as an invitation to stay.

"'Bout what?" Nova wants to shush her. She _is_ trying to bask here. But Chantal has been so good to her tonight, and her toes are still tingling.

"'Bout you. And you and me."

"You mean 'us?'"

"There's an us?" "Us" hadn't gone over so well the last time it had been uttered in this house.

"If you want." Nova hugs her just a little bit tighter. "Now hush. I'm trying to sleep."

It's no grand declaration of love, but it'll do for now.

**Author's Note:**

> These two couldn't decide whether they wanted to fight or make love, so por qué no las dos. I also did an embarrassing amount of pausing and rewinding on Episode 10 to find out Nova's address, and the house number on her mail didn't match the number on her house. Go figure.
> 
> Mood music: NAO - "Apple Cherry"


End file.
